


Eye fuck me softly

by graylilac13



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Clubbing, Eye Sex, Grinding, Jealous Derek, M/M, POV Stiles, Pack Bonding only not really, Possessive Derek, Sexual Tension, Werewolves, except Derek who's 20 a lot, pack is all 21
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:15:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graylilac13/pseuds/graylilac13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack is frustrated and drained from the constant baddies encroaching in their territory. To take the edge off the pack decides to go out for a night of fun at the popular club The Ravin' two towns over. Hopefully their night will consist of drinking, dancing of epic proportions and of course some hook-ups from unexpected places. Maybe the night out will remind them that it’s ok to unwind and let loose sometimes. That their lives aren’t all about waiting for the next threat to Beacon Hills to arrive and that they are still young and of course dumb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first fic in this fandom and second fic in like ever and Im really nervous so I hope that you guys don't mind giving me some feedback when you read the fic. I will try my best to incorporate your comments into future fics if i ever decide to delve into writing instead of simply reading again because my writing suck epic balls. but i hope this doesn't turn out too bad and some are pleased with it.
> 
> *Also simple grammatical errors are mine since i have no beta. If you spot any (even though I've re read this a dozen times, but some still manages to escape me) let me know and i'll be sure to get on it.

  


Derek stands in the corner brooding as usual. It’s not like Stiles would have expected anything less from the king of frowns himself.  The pack was finally out for a little fun after the past week- heck the past _month_ they’ve had, but it’s just that Stiles was at least hoping Derek would have loosened up some. But _no_. The tough guy has a reputation to uphold, he can’t let his loyal supporters down after all. He must keep up with the brows of death. Poor dude Stiles thought, having the kind of rep where people think you eat poor helpless bunnies for brunch, and how ironic is that. Here’s a guy the locals think is so mysterious and brooding – which he is, brooding, so brooding- and dangerous because he wears a lot of leather but lo’ and behold, he is! Oh the sweet sweet irony. Well he’s dangerous to some but for the pack they all know Derek is filled with gooey marshmallowy goodness – ok overkill but the point stands - on the inside, though his darker, more charred exterior fails to-

“Stiles!”

Stiles blinks in quick succession, his drink sloshing a bit over the brim of the glass he was holding while he forces his gaze away from the north most corner of the club. “Yo!” he shouts back to Scott, trying to be heard over the loud pounding in The Ravin’.

“Dude, I’ve like been trying to talk to you for the last five minutes. Where is your head bro?”

“Sorry dude. Was just thinking about Mr. Glares- a-lot,” Stiles replies licking his hand where his drink spilled.

“Who, Derek?” Scott asks before upending his beer bottle. How he manages to stomach that shit is beyond Stiles. Shit literally tastes like piss, though how he knows what piss tastes like will follow him to his grave.

“Yea, no shit. Know someone else that can glare anyone under the table?” Stiles retorts sarcastically, futilely stretching the crotch of the tight red skinny jeans Erica forced his bony ass into. That girl and her powers of persuasion, namely her claws, Stiles thinks grudgingly but also fondly, always fondly. “I feel like my balls are about to mend into one. God, I like so don’t even wanna see my balls after tonight. Can someone say chafing?”

“Chafing!” cries a voice coming closer from Scott’s left.

“Hey babe, where are the others?” Scott asks Allison before putting his arm around her bare shoulders. Allison’s strapless dress graciously shows off her pretty collarbones and the pink nicely complements her eyes. She looks really pretty tonight and Stiles tells her so.

Allison gives her brightest smile and thanks him. She turns to Scott and says, “They’re right behind me. Erica, Lydia and I went to the bathroom real quick. Apparently someone spilled vodka on Lydia’s shoes.”

Stiles and Scott look at each other and Stiles mouths uh-oh. Scott turns back to a laughing Allison. “What, why are you laughing?”

“You should have seen your faces just now. Really Stiles, uh oh?” She continues to look at them with a small smile on her face.

“What! That was a valid reaction. You know Lydia and her shoes, especially the Jimmy Choos she’s wearing tonight. She had a stare off with some poor soul over them like two months ago. The lady was so frightened she gave them over without a fight. Actually now that I think about it, it wasn’t even a stare off.” Stiles’ head tilts slightly to the right while he thinks back to the Saturday Lydia had interrupted his Stiles time and declared it Stydia day. He quickly caught on that his Saturday itinerary no longer had jerking off and video games as top priority but now it had hold Lydia’s bag while she shops because Jackson is a douche and is in Italy for a yacht convention or some other shit just as pretentious, with his parents.  “It was torturous to me and I wasn’t even on the receiving end of a pissed off Lydia, thank god.”

Speaking of the douche, Jackson walks towards their table, his hand resting on Lydia’s arm, steering her past the dancing bodies. “I know what you like to be on the receiving end of Stilinski!” Jackson shouts by his ear, his no doubt expensive cologne assaulting Stiles’ nostrils.

“Yea, and what’s that? Your mom’s talented mouth?” Stiles quickly quips back.

Jackson glares at him, muttering asshole under his breath. Stiles laughs wondering why Jackson always chooses to bite off more than he can chew. “What’s wrong dick, no witty comeback?” He asks while Lydia slips into the booth next to a smiling Allison.

“Shut it Stilinksi.” Jackson perches on a stool next to Lydia arm around her shoulders.

Scott cranes around Allison to see Jackson and Lydia. “Where’s Erica? And Boyd?” he asks with a puzzled expression on his face. “Allison said they were right behind her.”

At that Lydia rolls her eyes extravagantly while Jackson chuckles, “They’re having a slight delay at the moment. Apparently Boyd needs help with his fly,” Lydia says, again rolling her eyes. Jackson laughs outright at that.

“Code for totally fucking. Alright Reyes!” Stiles says laughing. Leave it to his Cat Woman to be the first of them to get laid tonight.

“Yea rejoice in her fucking ‘cause that’s the closest your gonna get to sex tonight,” Jackson directs at Stiles with a smirk. Stiles rolls his eyes. This plebe and his away too late comeback, good try though.

“I’m a hot piece of ass and you know it. The person I take home tonight won’t be able to handle all of this,” he says gesturing to himself theatrically in the way only he can.

“Yea all of that lameness,” Jackson says while turning to Lydia, obviously done talking about Stiles and his hotness. Stiles looks toward Scott to see him and Allison staring into each other’s eyes and not wanting to interrupt all of that love gazing he turns away swirling his martini. He stares out toward the sea of bodies on the dance floor moving and bumping amongst each other. It’s been awhile since he’s last been to a club to just have fun and relax with his friends. Even though he’s in a loud and flashy club he finds himself relaxing, at peace with those he cares about around him, having triumphed one more time against evil. They fight together and they play together.

During his inner monologue he sees Erica dragging an imposing Boyd behind. Stiles grins at them knowingly and Erica winks back. They slide into the booth next to him, already having something to gossip about. Erica tells him that in the bathroom a lesbian couple was hooking up in the stall next to her and Boyd when one of the girls puked all over the one. It was a disaster in the ladies’ room after that to Erica and Boyd’s dismay. They had to go to the men’s where Boyd proceeded to ravish her. This is what he loves about Erica; the girl knows how to have a good time.

“By the way, I said you’d look hot in those red skinnies with the black button-up and you totally do. Even I’d do you,” she says looking him up and down lasciviously. Stiles throws his head back and laughs, “Why thank you,” he says smiling at her.

“By the way where the hell is Derek?”

“Oh he’s over there by the – huh, I guess he got tired of brooding from that corner,” Stiles looks around, searching for broad shoulders encased in leather.

Scott takes a break from Allison gazing to say, “Come on, you know this isn’t his scene. Give the guy a break.”

“He’s babysitting from afar. He thinks we need someone to keep an eye on us while we, and I quote, act like children,” Lydia supplies.

“Oh please. The guy wouldn’t know how to have fun even if it slapped him in his face,” Stiles retorts looking at Erica to back him up. She merely shrugs playing with Boyd’s fingers and Stiles stares at her. “Come on, who goes to a club on their _day off_ to babysit perfectly capable young adults. We’re here to hook up and dance and probably make a couple mistakes not brood in a corner like a lone wolf.”

“The way how you flail? Someone needs to watch your ass to make sure you don’t step on any toes,” Lydia says daintily sipping her cocktail. Guess Lyds is still harboring some anger from the spilled drink on her Jimmys.  Jackson and Allison laughs while Stiles simply shakes his head. He doesn’t get how they don’t see that as weird. It’s like Derek is hot, anyone with eyes can see that. He could pull anyone in this club right now but instead he chooses to intimidate. Derek’s patent mysterious bad boy look really works for him especially since it’s not faked. The guy simply oozes danger with that perpetual stubble and leather jacket, and once you get up close you’d be hard pressed not to fall into his gaze. His gorgeous multicolored hazel eyes seem bottomless not to mention when you finally get to see him smile. No one is a match for a smiling Derek Hale. If Stiles had even half of Derek’s natural sex appeal he would be out there flaunting it and taking home the hottest girl or guy in this place. Not silently watching over the pack like daddy wolf, but then again he is an ooey gooey marshmallow.

The song changes to Pom Poms by the Jonas Brothers and across from him Allison starts wiggling in her seat. “Oh I love this song! It’s so catchy.” She bobs her head and sings along to the lyrics, nudging Scott. “Ugh I can’t sit anymore, let’s dance!” Allison grabs Lydia’s hand and stands up dragging her out of the booth leaving a disgruntled Scott and Jackson staring after them. Erica and Stiles laughs at their faces and even Boyd chuckles. Jackson hurriedly trails after them calling out, “later losers.” Stiles looks towards Scott who shrugs and follows suit, trailing after Jackson.

“And there were three,” Erica says.

“It’s about to be two, I’m not staying here. I’m free, single, gonna go mingle. You two lovebirds can watch the drinks.” Stiles slinks past Erica and Boyd’s legs slipping out of the booth. He turns back towards them, make eye contact and downs the rest of his martini. “For good luck,” he says. “You won’t need it,” Erica replies smiling.  He finds the rest of them to the side of the dance floor, Allison and Lydia facing each other with their guys behind them. Stiles just stands there watching them for a moment, Scott was shaking his pom poms alright. Allison notices him first and beckons him closer, making space for him.

At one point during the following thirty minutes Stiles gets stolen by a pretty blonde in fuck-me pumps , lipstick and a pert ass. That she currently has pressed to his groin. Score one for Stilinksi. She moves her hips from side to side to the fast beat of the song, of how she’s capable of keeping up Stiles will never know. He just places his hands on her waist and moves with her the best he can. He might not know the name of the song but it’s about to be his new favorite with the way she’s gyrating against him. He wants to know what her name is since he is basically molesting her butt with his crotch so he leans forward and brushes her hair away before he asks her. She looks at him over her shoulder and smiles. “Its Sarah. Yours?”

“It’s Stiles, you know like he has got style.” She giggles and turns around in his arms to face him, her arms around his neck. “Tell you what Stiles has got style,” she grins at that, “since you know my name and I know yours how about we make this more interesting?” Before he can respond her lips are against his. He catches on quickly though. Stiles winds his arms around to pull her in closer, crotch to crotch. She feels soft and feminine against him. Thin arms around his neck and body spray in his nose. Sarah tilts her head to deepen the kiss, trailing her hands down his arms to his spine where her fingers caress the waistband of his jeans. At her touch he opens his eyes and slowly ends the kiss, straightening a bit. Taking a breath, he glances over the sea of people and meets green eyes. Derek is in his direct line of sight staring right back at him. Stiles’ breath catches at how Derek’s leaning against the wall casually, eyes piercing into his. Stiles starts to feel an awkwardness that he doesn’t like so he lifts the corner of his mouth in a smile and looks away from the wall. Sarah has her arms wound around his neck again swaying slowly to the music, “What were you looking at?

“Nothing, just thought I saw someone.” She nods her head then places it on his shoulder moving too slowly for the song currently blasting throughout the club. “Listen, it was nice meeting you but I’m about to go, unless you wanna come with?” He looks at her properly then. Stiles’ mind races, this is what he wanted out of the night. Some dancing, drinking and a hook-up but for some reason he hesitates. He glances back up to see Derek is still where he last saw him now gazing across the dance floor like some security guard. He could pass for the security at least. With his muscular arms and ripped abs no one would dare question what he says. All they’d need to get him is a t shirt that says **Bouncer** and he could own the part. He finds himself smiling at the thought of Derek in said t shirt. “Stiles?”

Stiles looks at her then says, “Yea thanks for the offer but I came with friends. Can’t leave ‘em.” For the life of him he can’t figure out why he just turned this completely smoking chick down. She’s hot and interested, the only two things he’s ever cared about for his hook-ups, but this time he just doesn’t feel like it. Yea he’s still horny, hell he’s always horny, but he just doesn’t want to go home with her. Stiles guesses tonight isn’t his night and Jackson was right. No ass for Stilinski.

“Oh okay then. It was nice meeting you,” she gives him a chaste kiss then walks away.

“What’s wrong Stilinski, she figured out you’re a loser?” Of course now Jackson would choose to pounce.

“Nah, just not in the mood,” he says. Jackson casts him an incredulous look but doesn’t prolong the argument. “I’ll be back”

“No one cares Stilinski.” Stiles scoffs, fucking Jackson.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this story totally got carried away. Im not even in control of where it goes anymore honestly. This was supposed to be a quick 2 chapter fic but now i dont even know. It wont pass 4 chapters though if that much because Im gonna reclaim the pants in this fic-ship. I cant very well let my own creation control me now can I?

At the bar Stiles vies for the barkeep’s attention. The long bar is surrounded by people buying drinks and those just lazing about. Women and men alike are getting hit on right in front of him and here he is having turned down a fuck. It’s just sad. He doesn’t know what came over him with shooting Sarah down. One minute he’s kissing her and the next he’s staring at and thinking about Derek. Well if that doesn’t kill a boner, right. That must be why. He got Derek’d, Derek is to be blamed for him striking out. Jeez who invited the guy? Scott? Didn’t Scott know that Derek is a total boner killer?  Boner pesticide is what he is.

Stiles stands at the bar nodding along to some song waiting for the cute bartender to notice him.  The guy is a total twink, blond hair with an even blonder fringe and a lower lip piercing that he plays with when concentrating. He’s cute but not really the type Stiles goes for when wanting some hot man on man action. He goes for the more manly types. Not a meat head necessarily but a man that works out and has the muscles to show from it. And also a beard. Stiles is a sucker for a little shadow. Finally the cutie’s eyes land on Stiles and he jumps at the opportunity to order but before he gets the chance, he’s completely spoken over by a deep voice over his shoulder.

“Let me a get scotch, neat. And whatever else red pants here want.” Stiles glances over his shoulder in surprise and meets the eyes of a tall, blonde and handsome stranger in a suit. Stiles turns back to the bartender and asks for three shots vodka, since handsome stranger is buying. Plus he might as well start hitting the strong stuff, the better to get smashed with. A few shots and some dancing will turn his night around certainly. Stiles feels a hand on his arm and turns towards the man again. “Three shots, someone’s not wasting time. Unless you’re ordering for friends?” the man says to him with a raised eyebrow.

“No. They’re all for me. Just really feeling vodka right now.” Now that Stiles was fully aware and no longer vying for the bartender’s attention he could get a better look at the guy. And look he did. Dude was hot. He was about six feet of toned muscles and class, in a grey suit jacket and trousers with a pink shirt open at the collar. Handsome stranger oozed a certain kind of confidence that Stiles appreciated in the men he sleeps with. He was definitely Stiles’ type. “You are paying for my drinks though right? Since you decided to talk over me like that when obviously he was talking to me.”

Handsome stranger chuckles like Stiles just said something funny. “Yes, I am and since I’m being so gracious as to pay for your drink I think I deserve a name,” he says with a smile. The bartender chooses that moment to call out their order and Stiles waits to see if the guy would pay for his as well. He does. He also tips the cutie really well. The man hands Stiles his glasses and he promptly throws one back to free up his hands. Handsome stranger watches him with a small smile as he struggles with the empty glass. “Here, let me help with that,” he takes the empty shot glass and puts it on the bar. Well that works.

“Thanks. Dude, and gracious? You totally cut me off just now, paying is your punishment.”

The guy laughs and says, “I had to get your attention somehow and I figured might as well make a lasting impression. Paying is no punishment. I was hoping you would let me buy you a drink.” He licks he lips and takes a sip of his scotch. He has nice lips Stiles observed, not too small with a plumper bottom lip. Just how he likes it. “I’m Michael by the way,” he extends his hand. “Figure I can’t keep calling you Sexy Red all night as much as I’d like to,” Michael says with a flirty smile.

Stiles threw back his other shot and placed the empty glass on the bar next to the first. “Stiles.” He grasps Michael’s hand in a brief but telling touch. His hands were bigger than Stiles’.

“Stiles,” he says as if tasting it on his tongue. “That’s unique, it fits you.” He checks Stiles out thoroughly, lingering for a moment on his legs. Michael meets stiles’ gaze again and says, “Definitely suits you.” Stiles actually blushes at that. It has been awhile since he’s had someone so blatantly express interest in him and he must say it feels good in a bashful way that leaves him a touch flustered.

“Thanks. You too, I mean your name suits you. Your suit too, it suits you. I mean your well suited.” Stiles lowers his head and sighs. His affinity to rambling had to show up now just when his night started to improve. Way to play it cool Stilinski. He startles when he hears laughing above him, his head shoots up to catch Michael looking amused at the whole ordeal.

“You’re a rambler,” Michael leans toward stiles to whisper in his ear, “Don’t be embarrassed, I happen to think it’s cute.” He leans back and puts his hand on Stiles’ arm. Stiles can feel the calluses in Michael’s palm where he has it resting on his arm. Michael uses said hand on his arm to lead Stiles away from the bar and to a table off the dance floor.

They sit next to each other to hopefully hear better over the loud music. Aiming to reclaim some cool points he had lost Stiles places an elbow on the table, chin in his palm, last shot of vodka between them and turns toward McHottie. “So, what’s your story? Do you like usually pick up unsuspecting young men in red pants at clubs? Or was that just a tonight thing?” he smiles to let him know he’s playing.

Michael laughs, “I am usually not that forward but I saw you and I just couldn’t resist. Like I said before, red suits you. I would have been blind not to notice you and pretty dumb not to offer to buy you a drink.” He leans back in the couch, legs spread wide and shoulders relaxed, fingers wrapped around his glass of scotch.

“Wasn’t exactly an offer now was it?” Stiles raises an eyebrow. “You sure do know how to make an impression, I’ll give you that.” He moves the vodka closer and traces his index finger around the rim lightly. He can see Michael watching his digit circle back and forth as if entranced. Stiles had always been told that he has nice hands. Long and slender fingers that seem to be capable of delivering pleasure.

Michael clears his throat and glances back at Stiles face. “What about you, what’s your story? You wear bright colors to clubs and get hit on by men way too overdressed often?”

Stiles grins, “It’s my first time actually. Apparently I’m a fashion hazard and a friend of mine just couldn’t wait for the chance to get my balls in even closer contact than even they’d want. I don’t think they were meant to be this close.”

His mouth opens in a laugh and Stiles’ eyes zeros in, taking note of the guy’s perfectly white teeth. “At least the result is a desired one,” his eyes make quick work of glancing at Stiles legs the second time for the night.  Oh a leg man, he can definitely work with that.

Stiles looks at him and smirks, his confidence meter ratcheting up allowing him to brazenly move his hand to the guy’s thigh and lean slightly into his space. “Want to dance, or do you just want to sit here all night?” he lightly traces an imaginary pattern on Michael’s trousers, his eyes never once leaving his.  Michael quirks an eyebrow at him, a slow smile tugging at his lips. All of a sudden he’s being yanked to his feet and pulled. “Oh my God, wait!” Stiles laughs feeling giddy at the idea that his night isn’t a total bust afterall. “My shot. Someone paid about five bucks for that, I think I should finish it.”

Michael releases his wrist with a mock put-upon sigh, a slight eye roll and a smile. “Really not trying to waste my money are you.”

“Well yea,” Stiles say the duh going unsaid. “Daddy always taught me to be thankful of the things hot guys buy me,” he hurriedly throws the shot back to the sound of quiet chuckling.

“If that’s one of the life lessons your father chose to teach you, I can’t even imagine the rest,” Michael says reaching for his own unfinished scotch.

“Oh, just other stuff like never sit on public toilets, and to always spit, never swallow.” Michael’s eyes darts to Stiles' face and at the look they both start laughing.

He tilts his head to the dance floor that looks even more crowded than before. “Come on, wise guy.” Stiles steps past him and leads the way to the dance floor with a hand resting on his lower back.


	3. Chapter 3

Once on the dance floor Michael grabs Stiles’ hand and yanks him flush against him. He quirks an eyebrow at Stiles as if to challenge him. Being who he is Stiles rises to the occasion and puts his arms around Blonde Hottie’s neck. Michael one ups him by placing his hands on Stiles’ hips, yanking him in even closer. They peer at each other giggling like kids. Even though they haven’t started dancing yet and Stiles currently has no clue what song is playing, he’s having fun. Maybe it’s the present company or maybe it’s the three shots coursing through him, who knows, maybe all he really needed tonight was some male attention. It has been awhile since he’s had a cock in his mouth and even longer since he’s gotten a good hard fucking. He hadn’t realized that his sex life was missing some serious variety as of late; well it’s not like he was receiving that much offers from the fairer sex right now either, it’s just that he had decidedly been getting more vag than cock recently. And he’s looking to change that and tonight just might be his night. Mikey here seems like he can deliver.

“You do realize this is salsa playing right?” Michael’s voice interrupts his assessment of his sex life.

“What, you lacking the Latino hips Mikey boy?” Michael scoffs, hands on Stiles waist he quickly turns him around, back to chest. Stiles gasps at the abrupt change in his direction.

Leaning forward, Michael rests his lips right on the shell of Stiles ear, “Yes, but for what I lack in skill, I definitely make up in enthusiasm and sensuality.”

“Someone is smooth,” quips Stiles. Michael’s soft chuckle behind him sends a flutter of air at his neck, making him shiver slightly.

“You haven’t seen smooth yet baby.” His hands slowly move from Stiles’ waist to his stomach, skirting the edges of his waistband and back again.

“Now that is what I’m talking about.” Hands on Michael’s wrists, his ass to Michael’s crotch, Stiles relaxes and lets the smooth tone of the Spanish music flow through him. He slowly starts to sway his hips trying to match the slower beat of the song. It seems Michael’s words weren’t just all talk either. The man’s hips are sensual, not to mention his hands which he kept ghosting over Stiles’ hips and lower abdomen. Getting into the groove he closes his eyes and gives the reins over to Michael, better to let him control the pace with. Eyes closed, his mind starts to wander. It’s then he realizes he hasn’t seen any of the guys since he left them to find the bar. Crap. Hope they aren’t wondering where he is. One of the hands at his hips trekking lower puts a quick halt on that train of thought. Michael’s wandering hand ends up on his upper thigh gently squeezing the muscle, never halting the rhythm of his hips. Damn, he’s good. Stiles hopes that this is a prelude to the main performance. If he is as good at sex as he is at dancing Stiles is in for a nice night.

Stiles was thinking about something before Michael interrupted his mutterings with sexiness and hands and squeezing. Where was he- oh yea, the pack. Right. Hopefully they weren’t searching for him, but doubtfully they were, after all they were coupled up at a club with music and shit. Nah, they weren’t looking for him, because he so wasn’t looking for them. Not right now at least.

“So that sensuality and enthusiasm, does it extend to any other activities or to just salsa?” Stiles asks opening his eyes to gaze over his shoulder at his dance partner. Head turned slightly right Stiles catches a glimpse of intense hazel eyes between swaying bodies. Hazel eyes staring a hole into his, hazel eyes looking none too pleased. Stiles freezes, going board still against Michael, heartbeat stuttering seemingly freezing as well. 

“That’s a secret. You’ll just have to come home with me to find out if you’re that curious,” Michael says to the side of his face when he responds, a line that would have been suave if Stiles hadn’t been currently preoccupied. He drags one hand up to rest directly on Stiles’ stomach further pulling Stiles’ ass into his groin. Stiles’ breath rushes out of him at the sudden movement, not even aware his breathing had frozen as well. “Since I can most likely show you better than I can tell you.” Stiles’ gaze never leaving Derek’s he catches the way the corners of his mouth tighten. Was it possible he heard what Michael said just now? And if so, he doesn’t understand why even hearing what Michael said would make Derek suddenly look he sucked on a lemon and why Stiles froze up like a crazy person. “Stiles?”

“Yea…” Stiles answers forcing his stare away from Derek and to Michael behind him.

 Michael creates distance between Stiles and himself, moving his crotch a hair’s breadth away. “I’m sorry, did I cross a line? I didn’t mean to step on your toes, it’s just you were responding –

“No it’s fine, really. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to. Really it’s fine, I just got distracted by the flashing lights.” Stiles knows that as far as excuses go that that’s his worse one to date, including the one he told Scott about why his favorite high-fiving “action figure’s” right hand seemed chopped off. Yes Stiles cut it off but it was for a good cause at the time. Like why couldn’t Scott satisfy with high-fiving him? He was a good high-fiver. Okay, he was a jealous seven year old, he’s not ashamed. Still, Bucky wouldn’t have lost his righty if Scott wasn’t high-fiving him every day after school is all Stiles is saying.

Michael’s belief at his reason seems dubious at best, because really there isn’t any flashing lights other than a few glow sticks scattered about.  “Okay. Do you wanna keep dancing or…?”

“Yea totally, I’m not tired yet. I’m known as a dancing machine. Why, you tired?” he replies trying to sound teasing all while he cants his head to the side expecting to see two spots of hazel, only they’re gone. Huh. Guess he got tired of playing boner pesticide.

“No, I just wanted to make sure you were ok with where things were headed.” During the exchange Michael had inched his way closer to Stiles’ backside, and hands returned to his waist.

“Well aren’t you just the proper gentleman,” Stiles says in a horrible Marilyn Monroe impersonation and bats his eyelashes.

“Always,” Michael throws back quickly. The song and mood from before long over, Stiles spins around to face him with his arms dangling off Michael’s shoulders. They sway to an unidentifiable song that’s more than half way finished. They talk as they move, exchanging little tidbits about themselves. Stiles tells him that he’s twenty-one and five months out of college with a criminology degree and a part-time job at the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s station. Michael confides in Stiles that he wants to quit his job as a junior book editor because his salary just isn’t cutting it anymore. They converse until the song is over and the new one starts up.

Stiles hastily jerks away from their embrace, hands curled on Mike’s shoulders, mouth slightly open. “Oh my gosh! Dude I love this song!” Stiles seems to vibrate with his barely contained excitement.

Michael peers at him in wonderment when he recognizes the song, “Wow, you’re too cute, you know that?” Stiles winks and grins widely before he starts singing along to the song, _See me up in club with 50-leven girls..._ Stiles steps away from to him move more freely, hands going up to mime along with Beyonce.  Michael stands and watches Stiles’ movements, watches as he throws his arms above his head and repeatedly says, _‘Yonce all on his mouth like liquer._

Because his head is tilted back, it comes as a surprise when Stiles’ head suddenly pops up and his hand reaches out to grab at Michael’s shirt. Before Michael could react, Stiles had his back to him, ass pressed snugly against his pelvis. Stiles expected for Michael to find his behavior freaking ridiculous but it became apparent that that was not the case. “You really love this song don’t you? Fuck you’re hot.” Stiles laughs and rolls his hips.

Michael tries to plants his feet to handle some of Stiles weight as he dips low. “I really fucking do. It just does something to me.” On his way back up Derek appears in front of him like magic. So suddenly it borders on frightening. Only he’s a good distance away from them, not completely conspicuous but not really trying to hide either almost like he wants Stiles to see. Stiles slows his movements, cautiously watching Derek to see what’ll he do. He does nothing but stand there and watch Stiles watch him. Still staring, Stiles gives a tentative swivel to his hips trying to not let Derek’s surveillance throw his rhythm off. But Derek doesn’t stop looking. He sweeps his gaze across Stiles’ face slowly, like he’s cataloging every miniature change in his expression. Derek’s intense scrutiny travels down to his neck. His gaze is so piercing it’s as if Stiles can feel him pressing against his pulse point, where he knows Derek is looking. Finally his gaze moves and Stiles gets a moment of reprieve before he’s noticed where Derek’s eyes are now focused. Stiles swallows. Derek’s stare becomes assessing as if contemplating an idea, moving across Stiles’ chest, from nipple to nipple. Stiles’ heart beat spikes and Derek’s eyes sharply darts to his face, a corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. Derek resumes his assessment, eyeing Stiles’ now hardened buds.

His leer treks to Stiles’ midsection, sweeping over the flat planes of his stomach and leaving fire in its wake. Stiles gasps. Derek is leaving a trail of heat behind, heat that spider webs and connects, setting aflame every spot his gaze had landed. The heat envelopes his already tightened nipples, licks his abs and if Stiles focuses enough it almost feels like a hot mouth caressing him. Caught in a fervor Stiles raises his arm above his head and hooks his hand in the guy’s hair behind him. His other hand follows after the sensation as if by its own mind, Stiles’ now half lidded gaze never once leaving Derek’s intense one. Stiles runs his hand from his neck to his stomach and back all while slowly grinding on the person behind him, the guy’s name lost to the feelings in his body.

A muttered “Oh shit”, behind him barely catches Stiles’ attention; however, tightening hands on his waist and “Fuck, you’re so hot” does.  Trance semi broken, Stiles realizes he’s completely hard and was just sinuously rubbing himself over his dance partner. Mitchel? Micah? Mike…Michael!

Stiles blinks away the fog in his head, searching for an ounce of sense left. He stands to his full height and turns to Michael, peers into his earnest face catching traces of lust there. Stiles swiftly glances down and sees the erection tenting the guy’s trousers. How he had missed that Stiles has no idea. He must have been so attuned to his own body’s sensations and Derek’s… Stiles executes a complete 180 degree turn. He frantically looks about for a familiar leather jacket but at seeing none Stiles tamps down on the feeling of disappointment.

“Stiles, I did not know you could throw it back like that. Color me impressed,” Michael’s voice enthuses coming from in front of Stiles.

Stiles forces a smile and nods what he hopes is happily, “Yea me neither. Who knew!” he over shrugs.

“What do you say to coming back to my place? I don’t live far from here, just a five minute walk really,” he steps closer, “that way I can demonstrate the sensuality you were curious about.”

“May I cut in?” a voice remarks behind them. Stiles spins so quickly his limbs flail out in a classic Stiles fashion. His breath hitches as he comes face to face with the man that lit his body on fire with a gaze from seven feet away.

“Sorry buddy, not right now. We’re about to leave,” Michael replies, barely sparing a glance for the owner of the voice.

“Let me rephrase that: I’m cutting in,” Derek asserts, his voice strong and crystal clear.

Michael looked at him incredulously and scoffs. “Listen man, I don’t know what you’re on but he’s mine for the night.”

As fast as lightening Derek has his fist wrapped in Michael’s shirt and snarling threateningly. “The only one here, in this club who he could possibly belong to is me and that is only if he allows me to claim him. Don’t you _ever dare_ refer to him as _yours_ again.” Derek shakes him and Michael whimpers. “Got it?”

“Ok. Ok ok. Ok man. Just let me go,” Derek opens his palm and drops him like a sack of potatoes. He points to the edge of the dance floor and Michael doesn’t even spare Stiles a glance before hightailing it. Murmurs begin around them at the confrontation, but soon die down when they realize it’s over before it began.

Stiles doesn’t know what it says about himself that such a possessive display just turned his innards to mush and his semi erection to full blown hard as rocks. He stands there looking for the entire world like a turned on and confused puppy. And that’s before Derek held his gaze and stalked toward him. Now he’s a turned on and leaking puppy. Derek’s nostrils flare, eyes flash and it’s at this moment Stiles knew he was fucked.


End file.
